


Would you dance (if I asked you to?)

by TonicHoliday



Category: South Park
Genre: Canon-typical language, Crossdressing, Eric Cartman Being Eric Cartman, Humor, Inappropriate Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, Prom, Underage Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25609618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TonicHoliday/pseuds/TonicHoliday
Summary: The Sparkle Committee organize a playground prom for the fourth-graders.Cartman is confident he’ll be crowned prom king. All he has to do is find a date...
Relationships: Eric Cartman/Leopold "Butters" Stotch
Comments: 6
Kudos: 39
Collections: Rare Male Slash Exchange 2020





	Would you dance (if I asked you to?)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saturni_stellis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturni_stellis/gifts).



> Your playground prom prompt was so great I just had to run with it. Hope you like!

The flyer Bebe hands them has been xeroxed so many times it's almost illegible. It doesn’t help that it was originally scrawled in what appears to be thick crayon. It’s kind of redundant anyway, because Bebe and Wendy shout, “Playground prom, lunchtime on Thursday!” to everyone they hand a flyer to.

“Playground prom?” Kyle says as the others gather around, squinting at the flyer’s black and white blobs that might as well be hieroglyphics.

Stan sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Crap. Wendy’ll make me go with her for sure. I’m gonna look like a total R-tard.”

Kenny concurs, in words as coarse as they are muffled.

Balling the flyer in a gloved fist, Kyle tosses it into the snow and shoves his hands back into his pockets. “What do girls see in proms, anyway? It’s just an excuse to play a bunch of faggy love songs and crown the most popular kids king and queen.”

“Yeah, proms are totally gay,” Cartman says, realizing too late that if he agrees with anything that comes out of Kyle’s mouth, he’ll think there’s some ulterior motive behind it. It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Cartman would, without a doubt, be crowned prom king. The other boys wouldn’t even be in the running, if they dared pit themselves against him that is.

“You’re just saying that because you know you’d never get a girl to go with you,” Kyle spits, and boy is he easy to read. Like, the polar opposite of Bebe’s crappy flyer.

“Pfft. As if! You honestly think anyone would wanna go with you, Jew-boy?”

“I don’t care, because I’m not going.”

“’Cause you’re scared of being the only loser without a chick, that’s why.”

“Godammit, Cartman you are so f—”

“Dude,” Stan cuts in, a hand on Kyle’s arm. “Don’t make me go through this alone. I need another guy so I don’t look like a total lamewad, like a double-date kinda thing, you know?”

“Why don’t you ask Cartman?” Kyle dares, raising his eyebrows at him. “Seeing as he’s so sure he can find a date.”

Before Cartman can give Kyle one of the many savage putdowns he has stored in his well-oiled mental filing cabinet, Stan delivers an even lower blow. “We both know he can’t. So, will you come or not?”

“Screw you, Stan, Kyle!” Cartman screams, jabbing his finger in Stan’s face, then Kyle’s. “I can so find a date. Frankly, I’m shocked there isn’t a queue of chicks lining up to ask me already!”

Stan doesn’t even acknowledge him, which has Cartman’s blood boiling over. He just gazes pleadingly at Kyle, who’s rolling his eyes.

“Fine,” Kyle says, defeated. “I’ll find a girl to come with, if it’ll make you happy.”

 _Yeah_ , Cartman thinks, fists clenching at his sides. _Good luck with that._

***

It’s harder than Cartman expected to start a rumor that Kyle has a sexually transmitted disease. The girls are as thick as thieves and know in under five minutes that no girl from South Park Elementary has slept with Kyle. So, naturally, they have questions.

Which STD is it? Who did Kyle catch it from? How come Cartman knows about it – surely that’s something you’d keep quiet about?

Cartman’s prepared. It’s one of those gross, lumpy ones. Kyle caught it from some home-school kid, and Cartman knows because he found a receipt in Kyle’s pocket for cream he has to rub into his balls every morning—he holds it up, hoping they won’t see through his clever forgery, hand-typed in his basement last night, STD CREAM - - - $6.99 highlighted in yellow. Even with physical evidence, the girls aren’t buying it, and seriously, why are they so wet for Kyle all of a sudden?

Sabotage is in order then, and Cartman needs Butters’ help with that. Butters who, and Cartman knows this from experience, makes a totally convincing girl in a blonde wig and pleated skirt. A surprizingly attractive one too, if he remembers correctly.

There’s no need to kill Butters off this time either. All they need to do is sneak into Kyle’s bedroom—which Cartman’s an old hand at these days—and take compromising pictures of Kyle and his “secret home-school girlfriend.” Cartman grabs his high-ISO film for the low light conditions, and Butters still has his Marjorine wig in his closet, which Cartman bites his tongue about.

Butters is easier to convince than the girls, in almost every respect. He goes along with Cartman’s explanation that this is an art project and not anything mean that will make Kyle look silly. And he happily crawls into Kyle’s bed in the name of art too, while Cartman snaps pictures of them lying together, Butters’ head turned just enough to obscure his face.

The next day, Cartman brings the photo of Kyle and “Olive Oyl” to the girls’ attention, telling them he found it in Kyle’s locker.

“He’d go crazy if he knew I’d taken it,” Cartman says in a whisper while they lean in curiously, “so you gotta keep quiet, okay?”

“That’s Kyle’s girlfriend?” Red asks, dubious.

“Yeah, totally. He’s super secretive about her because she’s ugly. No offense, Wendy.” Wendy shoves him in the side, so Cartman raises a defensive fist at her. “Hey, screw you bitch, don’t shoot the messenger, god! I’m trying to save you girls the embarrassment of being Kyle’s side-ho.”

The girls hold an impromptu Sparkle Conference by the swings and, following ten minute’s deliberation, inform Cartman that they’ve cut Kyle from their potential date pool for tomorrow’s prom. And shit, tomorrow? Has Cartman wasted _three days_ trying to convince the girls to ditch Kyle from their crappy prom?

He’s got to find a date and fast, because there’s no way he’s letting Kyle win. Not with this. Not with anything. Kyle’s going to be totally humiliated about not finding a girl. He’ll let Stan down on his promise and possibly lose his best friend in the process. He’ll be forced to stand and watch Cartman’s coronation, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

***

Cartman has asked every freaking girl in his grade, including the ugly ones. He even lowered himself to asking a few third graders. The responses fall into two categories: _Sorry, I’m going with someone else_ , and, for some reason, _Ew! No way!_

While Cartman finds comfort in seeing Kyle in a similar predicament, it isn’t enough. How could he have been so stupid to leave things so late? Of course the girls would’ve found dates early. Tomorrow was supposed to be Cartman’s literal crowning moment. Now he’ll have to find a way to get detention, or stay home, or do something that’ll avoid the embarrassment of—

“Eric?” Butters strolls over to where Cartman’s drowning his sorrows in a carton of chocolate milk beside his locker, and ugh, this is the last thing he needs.

Butters asks, “Did you hear that the girls are throwing a prom on the playground tomorrow?”

Cartman shrugs and sucks noisily at the dregs of his milk. “Yeah. Think I heard something about that. Sounds totally lame.”

Butters laughs nervously, but he’s still smiling. When isn’t he? “Yeah. Yeah, it does sound pretty lame, huh?” He’s probably only saying that because he can’t find a date. What a douchebag. “Well, Eric. I was, I was wondering if…” Now, Cartman’s used to Butters being timid, kicking his feet and scratching his neck, but he doesn’t usually blush this much.

“If what?” He hasn’t got all day.

Butters swallows and squares his shoulders. “If… you might wanna go to the prom, with me?”

What the…

“Butters. We’re guys. You have to go to prom with a girl, don’t you know that?”

“Well. About that.” He’s back to the foot kicking and neck scratching again. “I heard Stan talking to Wendy about you not having a date and, well, I still have that wig you know, and I thought you might appreciate it if—”

“Butters, you’re a genius!”

Butters blinks. “I am?”

“You can bring the wig and a dress to school tomorrow, change in the bathroom at lunch?”

“Well, sure I can. If that’s what you want.”

Finally, things are going Cartman’s way.

***

Like they agreed, Butters steps onto the playground in full-on girl mode. He’s done something to the blonde wig. It’s got ringlets in it and the bangs have been trimmed into a soft gradient. The dress is new too, though most of it’s covered by his coat. That’s the thing with outdoor proms where the ‘dancefloor’ is covered in snowdrifts.

Cartman takes Butters’ hand and steps onto the square of playground where the snow’s being trodden flat by dancing couples. There’s music blaring from a pink, sticker-covered CD player at the top of the slide, Heidi Turner playing DJ with a stack of CDs.

So far, there hasn’t been much dancing. It’s mostly guys standing awkwardly while their dates coax them to move, though a distressed-looking Stan and a delighted Wendy are slow dancing around the perimeter, Wendy’s hand on Stan’s waist like a vice.

“You look great, Butters,” Cartman says under his breath as they begin to move.

“Really? You don’t think the dress is a little much?”

“No, it’s perfect. You look like a total girl!”

“Well, okay then.” He lifts Cartman’s hand above his head, pirouettes, then presses back into his arms.

It’s kind of awkward having Butters so close to him in a public setting, but the others watching dumbfoundedly don’t know the cute blonde in Cartman’s arms is actually their friend. The thought of getting one-up on them all gives Cartman a pleasantly warm feeling in his stomach.

As they dance past the undatable Kyle and thoroughly bored Kenny standing watch, Cartman hears Kyle snigger. “What’s her name, Cartman?” he calls over the irresistible beat of Justin Timberlake’s _Rock Your Body_ , unable to ask the question without laughing.

“Fuck you, Kyle!” Cartman retorts, Butters’ hand tightening on his waist. “That’s her fucking name!”

A crowd of boys gathers then, whispers of, “Dude, no way!”, “What the fuck?”, and “Timmy!” rising in a wave of curious muttering. Some of the teachers are watching too—Mr. Mackey looks concerned, Principal Victoria’s clutching her hands together sweetly, and Mr. Garrison’s laughing so much he’s crying and slapping his thighs—but they’re falling for Butters’ disguise hook, line, and sinker. Nobody suspects a thing.

Bebe and Token twirl past, and she tells Cartman what a cute couple they make. Wendy goes all heart eyes over them too, which is kind of weird, but Cartman goes with it, ignoring Stan’s bewildered look as they pass.

Then, things get serious: Heidi swaps CDs, and the opening bars of Enrique Iglesias’s _Hero_ fill the playground.

“Oh, how romantic,” Sally Turner says, leaning in to kiss her dancing partner. It’s Clyde, Cartman realizes, and while he looks uncomfortable, he does kiss her back. It’s just a quick peck, but Sally squeals and turns to her friends who squeal back in that annoying girl way of theirs.

Wendy and Stan are next, and Stan’s stomach contents thankfully stay put.

“Looks like everyone’s kissing,” Butters says, observing the others nervously. He’s not wrong. Every couple is following Sally and Clyde’s lead, and if Cartman wants to look cool and be crowned prom king, he’s going to have to join in.

It’s Butters who leans in first, eyes closed, lips puckered expectantly. It isn’t as horrifying a sight as Cartman anticipated. Over Butters’ shoulders, Kyle and his entourage are staring in disbelief. Yeah, because they can’t _fathom_ a girl being interested in Cartman! God, he hates those guys.

Cartman presses his lips to Butters’, and ha ha ha, everyone totally thinks he’s kissing a chick right now, only he’s kissing Butters and… oh. Right. Yeah. He’s … kissing Butters.

Butters’ lips are soft, and his warm fingers slide around Cartman’s nape and up under the edge of his hat. Everything outside of their kiss ceases to exist for a moment. There’s no slushy snow sapping the warmth through the soles of their boots, no crooning Enrique, no crowd, and it takes Butters squeezing Cartman’s hand to bring him crashing back to the playground, his held breath releasing in a cloud of white mist.

“Eric? Are you… all right?”

Cartman’s cheeks are glowing hot and have probably gone as pink as Butters’ have. He manages a slow nod. “Yeah, man. I’m good.”

The high-pitched squeal of mic feedback breaks Cartman from his daze.

“Boys and girls,” Heidi announces from the top of the slide. “I hope you’ve enjoyed the first of what we hope to be many playground proms. On behalf of the Sparkle Committee, I’d like to thank Wendy for organizing the event and Annie for letting us use your dad’s copier.” There’s polite applause from the girls, and Butters joins in. ‘Cause yeah, he’s supposed to be a girl. Right.

“We’re about to crown our prom king and queen,” Heidi says, excited. There’s another spate of clapping as a girl Cartman doesn’t recognize walks up the slide’s ladder holding a tray. Atop it are two papier-mâché crowns covered in glitter.

That’s why Cartman did all this. Those crowns, sitting right there, are why he went to all this trouble. He’s dreamed of this moment. The slow-mo lowering of the crown onto his head. Kyle crying in the audience after Cartman gives him the finger. The applause of every student and teacher before they bend knee to the school’s newest royal. People having to refer to him as “your majesty”.

But. Cartman doesn’t care about that anymore. He takes Butters’ hand and gives him an awkward smile, trying not to think about kissing him again but losing the battle.

“I wonder who’ll win,” Butters says, peering up at the slide with wide eyes. He doesn’t have to wait long to find out.

“I’m thrilled to announce that this year’s prom king and queen are…” Some kid with bongo drums starts tapping them dramatically. “…Bebe and Token!”

As the grand coronation ceremony begins—complete with confetti and a victory descent of the slide—Kyle ambles over.

“Way to go, Butters,” he says, slapping Butters on the shoulder, “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Yeah!” Stan laughs, cutting a path through the crowd and leaving Wendy on her own. “You made Cartman look like a total jackass!”

Cartman snatches his hand from Butters’. “Wait, what! People know it’s you?” And oh shit, oh fuck, this is bad, this is really, really bad.

“Well of course they do, Eric,” Butters says, looking puzzled but calm.

“Hold on a second,” Kyle says, looking at Cartman in disbelief. “ _You_ knew it was Butters, too? We thought he was playing a trick on you.”

Butters laughs. “No fellas. I asked Cartman to be my date and he said yes. I suggested I dress like this to make him feel more comfortable. The girls helped me style my wig and everything.”

“Oh,” is all Kyle can say to that.

“Oh,” Stan echoes.

Cartman’s soul experiences a similar sentiment as it deflates from embarrassment and shrivels into a fine powder. He isn’t sure if he’d prefer a sinkhole to open beneath him and suck him in or punch Butters in the face, though there’s a better way of getting one over on Kyle, so he chooses life.

“Yeah,” Cartman scoffs, folding his arms. “I knew it was Butters. Got a problem with that, Kyle? You’re not homophobic are you?”

Kyle holds up both palms in surrender. “Nu-uh. No problem at all, dude.” He’s still laughing, but Cartman opts to ignore that.

Heidi’s boosted voice breaks through the crappy speaker, and everyone turns to look at her.

“We have an honorary title we’d like to bestow, too. Thank you, Meagan, for making these crowns at such short notice.” Another tray is carried respectfully up the slide ladder. “These crowns are for two very brave boys. Eric Cartman and Butters Stotch, you’re our prom princes!”

“Oh, wow!” Butters says over the rising applause. “Eric, did you hear that? We’re princes!”

Butters’ wig slips off as he clambers up the slide steps and plops straight into a pile of snow. Cartman doesn’t care about the disguise anymore. Everyone knows anyway. Once they reach the top and don their matching paper hats decorated with sequins, Cartman takes Butters’ hand and pulls him onto his lap.

They make their way down the slide together, and Cartman gets his applause.


End file.
